Wouldn't It Be Nice?

It’s July and summer is here. This is France. I just found a new babysitter who comes on time and hasn’t yet sent a text with any of the following stories, “My back went out again, the doctor came to my house and said I can’t leave today.” “I’ve had a family emergency and have to leave town, I’m sorry.” Or the last one to date,“I’m at the police station identifying a gang of boys who attacked me this morning…”

I’ve been so happy with our new girl, I did what I always do when I hire a new babysitter, I went to buy her a little agenda to put in all her important dates (paramount of course is watching my children).

Well, to my surprise, all the agendas begin in September, the “Back to School” month when everything begins. I do realize not many people look for calendars or Filofax refills in July but the fact July and August somehow are no longer represented (except back in January) made me seriously laugh about the whole summer thing here. I had to hold my tongue from saying something extremely berating to the poor sales girl who wore denim overalls and had her black hair cut very short, the bangs gelled upwards like a comic strip character.

Later that evening while I recounted my findings of the two missing months, my husband pointed out that it was normal to only stock a certain number of agendas as most people buy them in January and it makes sense to cater to the Back to School people now. I do see the logic in that but still, what about people who get a new job in July and want a whole new agenda to start afresh? Oh, I almost forgot. It's France. Who would start a new job in July?

Anyway, in addition to the many strikes we had this year, mainly all of May and June, it just seems like people are overly focused on their vacation time. Starting in May, it becomes the common question to ask an acquaintance, “Are you leaving this summer?” No matter what their job or salary, everyone has the budget to take at least two full weeks of glorious vacation. When people ask if we’re going somewhere this summer and I respond “no”, they don’t know exactly what to say next. Who the hell says, “No?” No one. Especially not the pooper scooper. He gets his 9 weeks paid holiday plus strike days.

The buses and metros have a new schedule called “The Green Hours” which lasts all summer with less frequent stops. Many stores post new hours. Instead of their intense 10-12 and then 2-7pm day, they now post 10-12 and then 4-7pm. Yes, a four hour lunch now. Because it’s summer. But, most people won’t be shopping between 12 and 4pm anyway because it’s too hot, especially here in Marseille and they will be leaving for vacation to spend money on some beach somewhere else.

As an American, I’ve adapted pretty well to the whole sweaty no air-conditioner life style. The only places you will find a/c are in the grocery store, the tram(!), your own car (but it is still an option and most people don’t have it).

Just Saturday, I went into this tiny boutique to try on some 10€ dresses. Inside her store was hotter than it was outside and after five minutes of trying on dresses that fit nicely, I had to leave. I’m sure if her store had been cold, I would’ve left with a bag full of things.

However, the only thoughts running through my head were, “Man, I’m hot. This dress looks nice, but I’ll be so hot in it. When will I ever even wear it? I’m sweating like a pig. This place is a fucking sauna …” I gathered my belongings, dramatically wiped the beads of sweat from my upper lip, and walked into the relatively cool street. “Oh my God!” I said with especially wide eyes to no one in particular as if I was recuperating from some horrible experience. I felt as if I’d escaped a torture chamber.

That afternoon, while our two children took naps, sweating heavily while their fan was running, my husband and I turned on our small mobile a/c unit and lay on the couch immobile except for our mouths. “God, the French!,” he began. “I can’t wait to be in my hot office with my sweaty, smelly engineers tomorrow. They don’t even open their windows. I think they like it stuffy and humid and smelly in there, I swear!”

I started laughing. “We’re French,” he began in a loud voice, “We love to sweat. We love to keep our windows closed when it is a hundred degrees outside…love it! We like to smell! We’re French! We enjoy being uncomfortable!” Then he switched voices to sound like the feminine cliché version of a homosexual, “Air conditioner makes me so cold. Air conditioners aren’t good for your health, you know. They’ll make you sick…” I started laughing as many French have expressed their dislike for a/c and do believe it will make you sick. “God, France can be so third world sometimes!,” he added.

Needless to say, it does bring back memories of India, a real live third world country whose banking and Internet services are way ahead of France though the comfort level is about the same, stinky and hot, sewage smells seeping up through the sidewalks. After living in France for exactly 7 years to this day, I have the following recurring fantasy every single summer…

Wouldn’t it be pure heaven to be in the US strolling in a mall right now, sipping an iced Mocha in a cold plastic cup, my arms chilly, the over-abundant scent from perfume counters and smiling people who pass by.

My other recurring fantasy every single summer…

Wouldn’t it be pure heaven to be seated in an ice cold movie theatre, dark, clean, a brand new summer flick about to begin and a big bucket of freshly popped corn in my lap, an enormous cup filled with ice and Coke resting in the cup holder…

Wouldn’t it be nice?